Shadow Songs: My Collection of Dark Souls Short Stories
by The Sun Man
Summary: A collection of short stories (all written by me, FYI) that take place in the Dark Souls universe. Features family friendly characters such as: Murderous Darkwraiths, An insane Artorias, Lord Gwyns rebellious "daughters," a very deranged teenage Priscilla... and... Some other people.
1. Phantom

Authors Note: So this is the first story in the Shadow Song collection. I will have more of these stories uploaded as time goes on, and I'll try to make an effort to release these stories as fast as possible. And for the two or three of you who are wondering whats happening with my Minecraft story, I've recently hit a wall so I'm focusing on this instead. Don't worry though, I will finish that story. Pinky promise. -TSM

"**Phantom**"

The soft pitter-patter of rain woke the darkwraith. The darkwraith looked around, taking in his surroundings as he had done a mere hour ago. It was nearly time.

The darkwraith shifted from lying on his side to his back, impassively looking up into the forest canopy. Darkroot Forest may not have been the most hospitable place, but to a murdering darkwraith, the oppressive darkness and abundance of victims brought back fond memories of the Abyss.

The darkwraith hoped that none of his brethren found him here; the stories that would circulate throughout the Darkwraith covenant could ruin him, and Gywn knew he had a lot to lose; for this darkwraith was none other than Phantom, the infamous mute assassin. Being found in Forest Hunter territory could be very bad indeed, if his master Darkstalker Kaathe found evidence he had visited this place secretly, the Primordial Serpent may have reason to believe that Phantom had abandoned his covenant, and joined the Forest Hunters. If Kaathe suspected that he was selling darkwraith secrets to the Forest Hunters leader Alvina… Well, Phantom was sure he'd be dead within the hour.

A warm feeling in the back of his mind prompted Phantom to action, and he quickly stood up and opened his pack to retrieve the Red Eye Orb.

Phantom kneeled, and stared into the Red Eye Orb. Phantom issued a simple telepathic command, causing the Orb to glow faintly. Small red tendrils of light crept out of the Orb, traveled for a couple feet, and then disappeared from view.

Phantom knew the tendrils had disappeared because they had entered several alternate dimensions, searching for the perfect target.

Phantom waited patiently as the warm feeling in his mind subsided. Developing the link between his mind and the Red Eye Orb had been a long and painful task, but now that it was finished he could activate the Orb at will, and be informed by it when a specified targets dimension had shifted close enough to his so that an invasion was possible.

For you see, time is convoluted in Lordran. Several thousand dimensions exist, with several thousand alternate realities and very similar histories. Most realities were safe to invade, but some, dubbed by darkwraiths as the "Malformed Shadows," were either inhabitable to humans, or simply broken in a way no non-darkwraith could understand.

As the reality shifted ever closer to Phantoms own reality, the mute darkwraith checked his gear. Phantom wore the classic darkwraith set of armor, which gave him the appearance of a grey skeleton clad in black. Phantom carried a darkwraith sword, a falchion, and stored safely within him was the essence of his darkhand.

Phantom knew the importance of weaponry, so it was no great surprise that he would be one of the first darkwraiths who implanted the darkhand within themselves, allowing them to summon its powers at will, rather than having to slip it on like a glove first.

An eerie clapping echoed throughout Phantoms mind, and he suddenly knew that the time had come. Phantom put away his Red Eye Orb and stood.

As his vision blurred, Phantom grabbed the hilt of his sheathed darksword. The weapon's presence gave him courage as he faded away in his reality…

…and entered a new one. This reality was virtually identical to his own; the forest was exactly the same as the one he had stood in seconds earlier. Phantom took in the trees, the shrubs, and the dense undergrowth; all could provide sufficient cover.

Phantom quickly scaled the nearest tree, and waited for his target.

After roughly twenty minutes, the target wandered under the tree in which Phantom hid.

The target was an obese monk wearing heavy chain armor. A mace hung at his side, and tied to his back was a knight's shield. The monk was blissfully careless for someone walking in Forest Hunter territory.

From behind his mask, Phantom frowned. This was such an incredibly obvious trap that it created more suspicion than anything else. Perhaps this painfully simple trap wasn't the trap at all, and the real trap was going t-

**-TWANG-**

An arrow the length of a shortsword's blade flew right past Phantom's ear and implanted itself in the tree bark.

**-TWANG-**

Phantom leapt from the tree, narrowly avoiding a second arrow.

Phantom landed nimbly, and rolled to the side, barely avoiding the monks heavy iron mace. A second too late and Phantoms head would have exploded like a firebomb from the sheer strength of the blow.

The monk appeared obese, but some damn miracle was giving him ridiculous strength.

A glance to the left and Phantom made out two indistinct forms utilizing massive dragonslayer greatbows. Phantom was willing to bet his twin-humanity that those two were wearing rings of fog.

The monk gave a slow horizontal swing that the red darkwraith easily dodged by backstepping.

**-TWANG-**

**-TWANG-**

Two more dragonslayer arrows missed Phantom's chest by centimeters.

The monk shuffled closer to Phantom, and swung his mace a third time, which Phantom casually avoided.

**-TWANG-**

**-TWANG-**

Two of the deadly arrows stuck themselves in a tree near Phantom's head. At this point, Phantom had their strategy all figured out: The dynamic douchebags would fire arrows to strike down the enemy, but would hold their fire if the monk got too close to the enemy for them to get a clear shot. While the enemy was focused on avoiding the archers, the monk would decapitate them with a crushing blow.

Now that he had their strategy mapped in his mind, Phantom made short work of the three.

Phantom drew his darksword, and with a graceful swing Phantom slashed the monk's chest. With a bone-shattering kick, Phantom sent the fat warrior rolling down a small hill and into a thorn patch. Phantom thought it odd that the man hadn't even tried to block with his shield. Idiot.

Phantom then immediately drew and threw his falchion at the transparent archers.

The blade flew a ridiculously great distance, and implanted itself in the first archer's chest. The archer looked down to see his own blood gently trickle out of the wound, and was trying to decide what was more important: That a falchion had pierced his heart, or that someone had been dumb enough to _throw_ the curved sword. When the archer's eyes rolled up into the back of his head he had made his decision.

The second archer looked shell-shocked for a moment, and then quickly regained his composure. He quickly nocked another arrow to his greatbow, took careful aim, and-

For one painful moment the second archer realized that the red phantom had thrown his darksword, and for the second moment he made the revelation that the hilt was right between his eyes.

The second archer slumped to the forest floor without a sound.

Phantom admired his handiwork with the sword throwing for a moment, and then went to retrieve his weapons.

Phantom reached for his falchion, right as the mace struck him between the shoulder blades from behind.

Phantom crumpled to the earth, and clumsily rolled his body away from the dead archers as a follow-up swing nearly crushed his chest.

Phantom got up carefully, and eyed his opponent.

The monk was giving him a blood-stained smile as he kicked the archer's bodies so that they rolled down the hill into a large bush. The monk stood between Phantom and his weapons.

The monk coughed hoarsely, and spit up blood and a plaque-stained tooth. Phantom also couldn't help but notice that the monk had several long thorns protruding from his double-chinned face.

Phantom deduced that the monk had used some sort of miracle to patch himself up, but the fat warrior couldn't have much longer to live with that devastating chest wound.

The monk smiled again, and taunted Phantom by waving his hand, as if inviting him to try his luck.

Phantom casually walked towards the monk, his eyes focused directly on the man's stomach. You could always tell how a man was going to attack by seeing the way his stomach moved.

The monk laughed and spoke. "Whuttaryuh gonna do now… phantum?" The monk asked, slurring his words.

The Phantom shrugged, giving the appearance that he really didn't care that he was unarmed and facing a man with a huge mace.

The monk squinted angrily. Phantom thought the monk looked sort of like an angry bull.

"Sohyur insulting mehnow? Aright aright… You'll aget what's comin' to ya!"

The monk ran towards Phantom, eyes blazing with fury.

Phantom issued a telepathic command, and the dark hand materialized around his right hand.

The monks eyebrows rose slightly when he realized what the Phantom was about to do.

The monk gave a futile swing which Phantom ducked. As he rose, Phantom activated his dark hand.

The monk tried to turn away to run, but Phantom grabbed him with the dark hand, and pulled him to the ground. Phantoms mask fell off, revealing an oddly kind face, which mattered little as the mouth of this apparently kind face opened, and began sucking the humanity out of the monk's soul. The monk felt his life draining, his twenty-six humanity points being sucked away by one of the most powerful darkwraiths to ever stalk the shadows.

The Phantom stood up when it was over, and retrieved his swords and mask. The Phantom sheathed his swords and began to walk away, when he heard a pitiful groan.

Phantom looked over his shoulder, and saw the now-hollowed monk try to stand, but the weight of his fat, decaying body brought him back down to the earth.

The hollowed monk looked at him sadly, and coughed violently, as if breathing was now too difficult for the monster.

Phantom felt something he had never felt before, a feeling that bordered on sadness… but wasn't directly related to him? What was the word for this feeling? Phantom scoured his memory, and found the appropriate word: Empathy. What would a good person do in this situation? Probably give the man a bit of humanity so that he wouldn't go crazy, Phantom suspected.

Phantom sighed at his own weakness, and walked over to the dead archers, took something concealed, and walked over to the hollowed monk.

Phantom repeatedly stabbed the hollowed monk in the face with a dragonslayer arrow until the annoying, spam-skinned pseudo-corpse would shut up.

That aside, Phantom activated the Red Eye Orb, and returned home.

It was perhaps two hours later when the contact arrived.

The new arrival was very strange; He wore a twisted version of a legendary knight's armor, which now had a dense patch of thorns growing from the exterior.

Phantom waited silently, impassively, and the stranger held out a gauntleted hand.

Phantom handed him the physical version of the humanity he stole, which the knight graciously took.

The knight gave a solemn bow.

"Nobody will know of what has transpired here, or what will continue to transpire here." The knight said in a raspy voice.

Phantom nodded his appreciation, and then handed a note to the thorned knight.

The knight took it, read it, and smiled.

The note read in scrawled lettering:

Give my regards to the fair lady

-Phantom


	2. Artorias Part I

AN: This is a pretty long story, so I've taken the liberty of breaking it up into three sub-chapters so you don't lose your place and rage quit . You're welcome! You should already know this, but since this is fanfiction none of this is to be taken as lore and should be treated as the idle ramblings of a teenager who has just discovered his love of writing. Also I make up several characters that don't exist, and the full list of non-existent characters will be posted at the end of part three. I will upload chapter II. tomorrow, and chapter III. (maybe) the day after. Kthxbye!

Disclaimer: (The characters don't talk like you'd might expect, they may occasionally use more modern lingo so you can associate with them more or whatever. Plus, please don't leave rage comments such as: "Thats not how Ciaran acts!" Or something like: "Why does Artorias have black hair? Some shady source told me he was a brunette!" etc. Its a fan fiction, remember?) -TSM

**"Artorias"**

Once, there were Four Knights. The first was the proud and honorable Ornstein, who was considered by many to be the definition of "Knight in Shining Armor." The second was Gough, an incredible archer with the body of a giant, and the mind of a philosopher. The third was Ciaran, a deadly assassin who struck down foes more mercilessly then any of the Four.

The fourth was the conflicted Artorias. Artorias was a legendary warrior who put human heroes to shame. Artorias was once the strongest, and wisest, of the Four. He was also known to be the only person to ever enter the Abyss and return with sanity fully intact.

Perhaps it was some sort of punishment for his frequent "Abyss Walking," or maybe it was just poor fortune. Whatever the case, Artorias entered the Abyss one day and returned… Not quite the same.

This is his story. Make what you will of it.

**I.**

_Voices._

_Voices everywhere._

_I can't do it._

_I can't hurt them._

_Don't make me._

_Please. Don't make me._

"AAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHHHH" Artorias screamed, his terrible wailing cry echoing in helmet. Some distant part of his mind realized that his head was on Ciaran's lap, and that she was looking down at him with concern.

"Artorias! ARTORIAS!" Ciaran's commanding voice brought him back to the world. "Artorias. It's just another dream."

"More like a nightmare." Gough said with a slight chuckle from across the room.

Ciaran shot Gough a sharp look, which was easy now that she had removed her helmet. Ciaran looked back to Artorias with a kind face. "Look… Let's do the mirror treatment again. It'll make you feel better."

Artorias nodded slowly, he feared that too much movement would cause him to hurl in his helmet. You only make that mistake once.

Ciaran helped Artorias remove his helmet, and directed his vision towards the rectangular mirror she held in her hand.

Artorias stared into the mirror. His own luminescent blue eyes stared back at him, which Artorias found to be oddly calming.

Gough noticed Artorias and Ciaran together, and he chuckled for a second time. "You have him look at himself any longer and he'll fall in love."

Ciaran threw a stone brick at him, which bounced harmlessly off Gough's shoulder.

Gough grinned. "Point taken." He said, holding back laughter. Gough got up slowly, and left the room.

Ciaran noticed with some satisfaction that Gough had to stoop very low to get through the doorway.

Ciaran of all people felt most at home in this room, for it was the reflection room of the Great Castle.

The Great Castle appeared as one might suspect; it was gigantic, built for people twice the size of Sentinels, which proved to be very awkward for shorter people such as Ciaran.

For you see, the Four Knights were not normal humans. Their species was the ancient ancestor of primeval humans.

Gough was quite obviously the tallest, standing at an incredible fourteen feet. Ornstein was the second tallest, making a respectable ten feet. Artorias stood around eight feet tall.

Surrounded by these giant pseudo-humans, the six-foot tall Ciaran felt ridiculously small.

Most areas in the Great Castle were built for giants, but the reflection room was specifically designed for much shorter beings, the main doorway standing at roughly eleven feet. The Great Castle was perhaps one of Anor Londo's most spectacular constructions, and it was especially dedicated to Lord Gwyn's first daughter, Gwynevere. Although the giant goddess was currently absent, the castle was still used for important meetings between the deities of Anor Londo, and great heroes such as the Four Knights.

"Spectacular. I had forgotten how much this could assist me." Artorias said, smiling.

"Good. Now quit with the screaming and follow me, Gwyn's holding some sort of meeting. It will reflect badly on all of us if you don't attend." Ciaran said matter-of-factly.

Artorias's smile vanished from view, as if he had put on a ring of fog. "Yes. It would reflect badly. Reflect… Huh. Ciaran I need to tell you something very important."

Ciaran's heartbeat sped up, as if she were in combat with a deadly opponent. What did he want to talk about? Did it concern the two of them?

"I've been meaning to tell you, tell you all in fact. These nightmares are no passing issue… They're getting worse each time I walk the Abyss. My suffering is increasing so much. Sometimes when I wake up I feel like a want to… Want to… I saw Ornstein once, lying on his side, his helmet discarded. I thought… I thought… How _easy_ it would be to kill him in his sleep… I… I'm slipping Ciaran. Please, if something happens to me you need to know that I-"

A silver knight jogged into the room, and cut Artorias off.

"Sir Artorias, Siress Ciaran, the meeting is about to commence. Please follow me."

"We're in the _middle _of something you know!" Ciaran snapped.

The silver knight held up hand, as if trying to ward off Ciarans' reply. "I'm sorry, but it's Lord Gwyn's orders." He said apologetically.

Ciaran sighed, and helped Artorias up off the ground.

Artorias put on his helmet, grabbed his greatshield with his left hand, and slung his greatsword over his back.

"We had better get going." Artorias said calmly, his misty eyes safely hidden behind his helmet.

Ciaran donned her porcelain mask. The mask was designed to hide her angelic features, yet it allowed her flowing blond hair to escape the helmet.

Without another word, Artorias and Ciaran followed the silver knight.

When they arrived in the Hall of Voices, the largest auditorium of its time, Ornstein and Gough were already seated, with a great host of silver knights taking up the four hundred human-sized seats.

Several other famous (and perhaps infamous) people stood at attention within the Hall. From a brief glance, Artorias noticed the Executioner Smough, the Infested Count, Pardoner Verrick, Bishop Havel the Rock, Seath the Scaleless, and several other people of great prominence. This meeting must truly be of great importance for even people like the Count and Pardoner Verrick to arrive. The Infested Count was an ambassador of Blightown that kept the few remaining sain creatures informed, and the Pardoner was an emissary of the rogue god Velka.

Artorias knew that if a shameless deity such as Velka wished to know what was occurring within the walls of Anor Londo, something incredible serious was sure to be discussed.

Artorias took a seat, with Ornstein on his left and Ciaran on his right. Ornstein wore his helmet, whereas Gough hadn't even taken the time to bother.

Artorias knew that while Gough was prone to bursts of intellectual passion, there was no denying that the man looked like a bloody brute, from his crooked nose to his brown, sunken eyes; Gough had the face of a warrior and the mind of a genius.

Lord Gwyn stood from his throne, and addressed the gathered warriors.

"Greetings one, and greetings all," Gwyn said, his voice perfectly audible from the back of the hall. "I'll be blunt with you, as bluntness is the best way most of you understand things."

The audience chuckled.

"The township of Oolacile is under the shadow of the Abyss. The Abyss has once again grown too powerful for us to contain. If the Abyss is not kept at bay, it will grow and consume all of Oolacile, and by extension, all of Lordran. Do not fret, for I have a solution. We shall send two teams of warriors to Oolacile."

Lord Gywn swept an arm dramatically, and pointed directly at Artorias.

"The first team will be led by Artorias. The team will be compromised of the following: Artorias the Abysswalker, the great grey wolf Sif, the Shining Knight Tellegan, and the Defender Kurrikai. This team will invade the Abyss through Artorias's… Unique… power, and will slay the monster that controls the Abyss. Your secondary objective is to save Dusk, the princess of Oolacile, who is being held by the beast."

Artorias looked over his two new team members. The Shining Knight Tellegan was a lesser hero remembered for his terrible folly: Legend says that Tellegan's own village was incinerated by a drake while he sat in the Great Castle, polishing his odd blue armor so that it would "Shine brighter than the Sun." The title "Shining" was a horrific reminder of his ignorance.

The second warrior was Kurrikai, the Defender. There wasn't much to say about Kurrikai; he was a decent fighter and good companion, albeit very sharp tongued. His armor was very strange, it took on a silver hue, and the knight often claimed that it would grow a dense patch of thorns on the surface if the right words were chanted at the right time. This had never been witnessed, so most believed it to be fiction.

The companion Artorias was most glad to set out with was his wolf, Sif. Sif was currently recuperating from a broken paw, but the injuries would be healed within the hour. The two had met at the Battle of the Horrors, and had become inseperable ever after. Perhaps they both saw the atrocities that occurred there, and shared a mutual bond because of it. Sif was just a pup then, but now he stood at roughly four feet, and held a glowing sword in his mouth in combat.

Lord Gywn cleared his throat noisily, and continued speaking.

"The second team will be led by Gough. The list of people is as follows: Hawkeye Gough, Lord's Blade Ciaran, White Eyes Aerath of the silver knights, and Silvach the Glutton.

Ciaran rolled her eyes from behind her helmet at Silvach's name. The cleric was utterly obsessed with eating, and had he taken a better life style, the man could have perhaps been one of the Knights of Gwyn, for his prowess in combat had once been legendary.

Aerath was a more respectable warrior, she was one of the highest ranking silver knights, and had held her own against both Havel and Ornstein during a training session at the same time. The spear master would be a welcome addition to the group.

"The second team's goal is simple. You must insure that Artorias and company reach the Abyss without any distractions. Use of extreme force is advised; do not let _anything_ harm Artorias's team. The two teams will set for Oolacile tomorrow. Do not fail us."

"Also, I have additional instructions not directly related with the Abyss issue. Firstly, Dragonslayer Ornstein and Executioner Smough will be stationed at the Cathedral to protect Gwynevere until further instructions are given."

Ornstein stiffened at this proclamation; Smough's hate for the Knights of Gwyn was legendary. Smough's anger had started after he was denied entry to the Knights, due to his habit of grounding up the bones of his victims as seasoning.

Smough looked over towards Ornstein and laughed. The laugh was freakishly high-pitched for such a gigantic man.

Ornstein made sure Smough had a good view of his Dragonslayer Spear.

Lord Gywn gave off a series of instructions for several other teams. The teams had various jobs, such as: Protecting Anor Londo's entrances, hunting down a giant red drake that had begun terrorizing a small town, giving a peace offering to the Black Dragon Kalameet, and requesting the medical abilities of an ancient sorcerer who had secluded himself in a dark forest.

The list of tasks that needed to be completed went on and on, until Lord Gywn finally dismissed the congregation.

Artorias checked his weaponry, removed his helmet, and walked over to Ciaran.

Ciaran sheathed her golden tracer and turned to him.

"Well, good luck out there." Artorias said encouragingly.

"You shouldn't do this! The Abyss could break you this time." Ciaran said, full of concern.

"Your complaint is noted… And ignored." Artorias joked.

"Well, I'm glad you're feeling good enough to jest, but… Watch yourself."

"When have I not?"

Ciaran laughed. "We both know the answer to that."

Artorias frowned. "We both know the cleric stabbed me."

"The cleric wasn't even there!"

"Whatever."

Ciaran rolled her eyes from behind her helmet, and reached into her pack. "Look, for my sanity and your own, take this."

Ciaran handed out a rare commodity: A hand mirror. The mirror was about a foot wide, and was nestled in a wooden circle with a handle.

Artorias took the mirror and put it in his own pack.

Ciaran blinked rapidly, and gave Artorias an unexpected hug. "Be safe," she whispered.

Artorias was caught unaware and obviously didn't know how to react.

Ciaran backed off and joined her team.

Artorias put on his helmet quickly, never had he been so grateful for the face-obscuring piece of metal. It would be a shame if his team saw their leader shedding tears over a brief separation from his companions.

Artorias reflected that the meat of the trip was incredibly uneventful. Sleeping on grass and keeping watch three hours a night was far from enjoyable, but it could be worse. _It could be raining or something, _he thought glumly.

A bolt of lightning traversed the sky, and a great deluge of rain fell from the heavens.

Artorias looked up as a drop of rain the size of an arrow head splashed in his eye. Nice.

Artorias absentmindedly stroked Sif's fur with one hand, and looked into the mirror with the other. Artorias didn't notice how empty his gaze was looked until he was staring right into his own eyes. The bags under his eyes and the pathetic glazed pupils were definitely _not _good signs.

Tellegan looked over his sword intently, making sure it was free of scratches. That settled, he began polishing his blue helmet that had been crafted in the likeness of a man's face.

Kurrikai was asleep, his rapier and sword lying very close to his person.

Artorias closed his eyes and fell into another nightmare.

A few days after the downpour, the party of four reached Oolacile. As expected, Oolacile had been mostly reduced to rubble, and then again to ash.

The Shining Knight Tellegan was the first to speak their minds.

"Where the hell are all the people?"

"I think I just saw movement, to the east." The Defender Kurrikai noted.

"I saw it too. Might have been a human." Artorias affirmed. "Me and Sif will check it out, you two guard this area."

Tellegan laughed. "Defend this area from what? There's nothing here."

Artorias gave him an exasperated look and donned his helmet.

Artorias and Sif walked towards the person who had escaped their view. They ducked through a crumbling stone building, and navigated through a maze of stone pillars. Many of the pillars had fallen over, and moss seemed to cling to ever bit of stone visible to the naked eye.

Sif gave a short bark.

Artorias looked down at his faithful companion. "I know… This place wasn't attacked… It was destroyed from the inside."

Artorias and Sif rounded a corner, and saw a human squatting with his back to the man and beast.

"Uh, hello? Sir or Madam, you are in serious danger." Artorias called to the figure.

The human stood up, and turned around.

Artorias's eyes widened as the man leapt at him, arms outstretched and face concealed by a raggedy shirt.

Artorias was barely able to shake the man off.

"Sir what are you do-… Good Gods."

The mans' shirt fell away from his head, exposing his true form. The man wasn't a man at all, but instead an atrocity with a humanoid body.

The beast had freakishly extended arms and legs, and its face was bloated and sagged, with at least twenty dimly glowing red eyes on the surface of its freakish head. Several odd roots extended from his head, and curled in all directions.

The thing gave an animal-like scream and charged Artorias again.

Artorias reached for his greatsword but was too slow; the thing knocked him off balance and scraped his chestplate with a set of extendable claws.

Artorias fell over and struck the ground heavily.

The creature with the bloated head crawled over and pinned Artorias down as it desperately tried to remove his helmet. One look at those claws and Artorias knew that if the damned bloathead got to his unprotected head he was going to die.

Sif leapt at the bloathead and grasped the things disgusting head with his jaws. Sif then fell to the side, his body mass dragging the bloathead off Artorias.

The bloathead began savagely scratching Sif's body, leaving patches of red fur to litter the stone ground.

Artorias drew his greatsword and lopped the beast's head off in one fluid strike. Sif was panting and covered in blood on his left side, but thankfully the injuries were minor.

Artorias took the glowing sword from his other sheath, and tossed it to Sif. Sif caught the sword in his mouth and whined excitedly.

Artorias was about to speak when he heard Tellegan's voice.

"ARTORIAS! ARTORIAS RUN! GET TO THE CAVE!."

Cave? Artorias thought, and turned to see a crack in the floor barely wide enough to let a man through. Calling it a cave was incredibly generous.

Artorias looked over to where Tellegan's call had come from, and saw his two companions running at top speed, a mob of bloatheads far behind them. Artorias counted perhaps fifty of the creatures; too many to fight in this jungle of stone ruins. Tellegan had lost his characteristic blue helmet and shield, and his sword was stained with blood. Kurrikai was completely unarmed, his sword and rapier lodged in the chest of a particularly large bloathead.

Kurrikai and Tellegan came to a screeching halt when they reached Artorias.

"What are you doing just standing there!?" Kurrikai shouted. "Jump down the hole!"

"Are you mad?" Artorias shouted back. "That crack will lead perhaps five feet into the ground. Those bloatheaded monsters will make short work of us!"

"We met up with the other team!" Tellegan shouted, voice rising in pitch. "They said to jump into the crack near the pillars! It's a secret entrance to the Abyss! It leads straight to the beasts' lair!"

"The other team? How do they fare?" Artorias inquired.

"No time!" Kurrikai replied. "The beasts are nearly upon us. Jump!"

Sif seemed to get the message first, and leapt into the crack.

Kurrikai followed suite, and Artorias was about to jump himself when he heard Tellegan's strangled cry.

One bloathead, much faster than the rest, had grabbed Tellegan by the chest, and began savaging his unprotected head with its deadly claws.

"TELLEGAN!" Artorias screamed, but before he could react, Tellegan put all his remaining power into one kick, and sent Artorias sprawling back. Artorias struck the ground with his head, and fell into the earth. His last view of the surface world was Tellegans' bloodstained face, the infamous knight's golden hair matted with his own blood.

Artorias fell… And fell… And fell…

Artorias thought he spotted Kurrikai perhaps thirty feet below him as the group continued to fall. Artorias tried his luck and called to his companion.

"Kurrikai! This isn't a normal cave!"

"Really?" Kurrikai's sarcastic voice floated back up. "Maybe _that's_ why we've been falling for five minutes and haven't hit the ground or a hanging rock!"

Artorias squinted, it was getting harder to see Kurrikai, and the warriors' voice was barely audible over the sound of the wind rushing past him.

"What do you think happens when he hit the bottom?" Artorias asked, realizing how stupid the question sounded after it left his lips.

"You have a catalyst and the unquestionable mastery of the fall control spell?" Kurrikai asked innocently.

"No!" Artorias called back.

There was a pause in the conversation.

"Then we die." Kurrikai said darkly.

"That's a shame. Tellegan was slain by one of those freaks… I can't believe he's dead because I wouldn't jump when you told me to!"

"Don't be too hard on yourself. At least he had an honorable death in combat. We're going to be slain by a floor! Not the awe-inspiring end you hear in those heroic poems, eh Artorias?"

Artorias was about to reply, when Kurrikai's oddly peaceful voice called back up.

"Hey Artorias, I think I see some wate-"

Artorias barely had time to process this before he struck the water at possibly a hundred miles per hour in full armor. It was perhaps the greatest belly-flop of all time. Too bad nobody witnessed it.

Artorias had taken the five minutes of free-falling to prepare himself for either a painful death or a painful slow death, so the lack of pain when he struck the water was more surprising than anything else.

Artorias dimly realized the water must have some kind of enchantment as his vision blurred, and his helmet filled with water. He could perhaps feel a set of strong jaws latch onto his arm and began pulling him towards the surface. What was the point anyways? All Artorias could see was Tellegan's fearful eyes, the bloatheads horrific face, and worst of all, he imagined Ciaran looking down at him with a frown, as if wondering how a knight of Artorias' merit had been killed by a little water.


	3. Artorias Part II

AU: First of all, thanks to Sovereign for the heads up on the whole "lobbed" vs "lopped" thing. To be honest I didn't even know lopped was a word. Anyhow, part two is here, expect the finale either tomorrow or day after. Thanks for reading this far, and "stay casul?"

**II.**

…

…..

_Voices._

_Voices everywhere._

_I can't do it._

_I can't hurt them._

_Don't make me._

_Please. Don't make me._

_I don't want to be like you._

_I'm… I'm… NOT LIKE YOU!  
I WILL SLAY YOU BEAST!_

**_I WILL FIND YOU AND CUT OUT YOUR HEART!_**

Artorias awoke suddenly, and lunged forward.

He knocked heads with Kurrikai, who fell back cursing.

"Almost wish… I left you in that damn water…" Kurrikai muttered, rubbing his temple vigorously.

Artorias ignored the pain and looked around the odd cavern. The stone was a glossy black, made of a material that no mortal had ever named. Artorias was sitting down on a stone outcrop next to a small lagoon of greenish-blue water. Artorias' sword, shield and helm lay on the ground, with Sif curled up next to them.

Artorias looked at the water, looked at the stone, and understood nothing.

Kurrikai noticed Artorias' blank stare and laughed. "Yeah, strange place. I was hoping you would know where we are."

"The Abyss… We are in the Abyss but… I've never seen this place. Strange that the bloatheads didn't follow us down. Maybe they made a better decision then we did."

"That's not comforting. So how can we see around down here? There's no light source visible."

Artorias had noted that everything was visible in a sort of half-light, with odd shadows stretching across the caves' surface.

"I'm not sure exactly how Kurrikai, but this is the Abyss. Most things in the overworld are reversed, for instance: Light exists where darkness should. It's very strange, but don't try to think about it too much, you'll just hurt your head."

"Ah. Thanks, now everything makes even less sense than before."

Artorias laughed and stood up, stretched his arms, and surveyed the room.

"There is a fissure in the stone behind you." Artorias pointed out.

"I noticed." Kurrikai said straight-faced.

"We have to crawl through it." Artorias said, slinging his greatshield over his back, and sheathing his greatsword.

"I was afraid you'd say that. Do you think it's safe?"

"Better than the alternatives." Artorias said while putting on his helmet.

"Which are?" Kurrikai asked intently.

"Sit here and die of starvation, or make one hell of a climb." Artorias said, pointing directly up.

Kurrikai looked up and frowned. "We only fell for five minutes." He said hopefully.

"You know how deep down we must be after falling for five minutes?"

"Do you?"

"No, but I know you'll die of starvation before reaching the top."

Kurrikai grinned, and donned his own helmet. "Well if we really have no choice, lead the way Sir Sif and Sir Artorias. Kurrikai gave a mock bow, gesturing towards the fissure.

Artorias snapped his fingers, and Sif rose with a yawn, picked up his sword in his mouth, and followed his master.

Artorias squeezed through the fissure, which eventually led to a large tunnel, wide enough for three men to walk through abreast. Unfortunately, Artorias banged his head on more than one occasion, stupid hanging rocks. The ringing sound was deafening, if only he were Ciaran's height!

Remembering Ciaran made him think of the second team.

"What did happen to the second team anyways?" Artorias inquired as they slipped through the fissure.

Kurrikai sighed. "Tellegan and myself were guarding the place like you ordered, when we met the second team. Apparently, Silvach fled into Darkroot Forest when they passed it, damn cleric was always a coward. Anyhow, old White Eyes had been blasted with dark magic by one very brave bloathead, she wasn't looking too good. "

Kurrikai ducked a hanging stalactite and continued his story.

"Anyhow, we all caught up on the situation when we were ambushed by, you guessed it, more bloatheads. Most of them were the usual sort, but there were nine magician variants that casted all kinds of dark magic at us. Plus, one of the bloatheads was three times the size of the rest."

"Gough began taking the bloathead magicians down with his legendary archery, it was a sight to behold. Tellegan had his helmet knocked off by a dark spell that launched six or so beads of dark magic. One just happened to hit his helmet. I lost my weapons to the giant bloathead, and the bloatheads began to swarm, so Ciaran dragged White Eyes Aerath away from the mob with Gough, who laid covering fire for their escape."

"We were going to go with them, but we heard a scuffle and realized you were in combat, and Ciaran had informed us to the Abyss's entrance so we came to you, running. Strange that only one bloathead was attacking you, and even stranger still that the bloatheads managed to conduct an ambush of that magnitude. They have a peculiar problem solving ability unique to only one other type of creature…"

Artorias sighed. "So the bloatheads are the corrupted citizens of Oolacile?"

"That would probably be the case."

Artorias slammed his gauntleted fist against the cave wall in anger.

"So now the Abyss has claimed another land and turned its inhabitants into its own personal slaves. Damn that Manus!"

"Manus? Who is Manus?"

Artorias realized he slipped up and gave up holding back the truth.

"I've been having dreams recently. Nightmares really. You see, traversing the Abyss is no simple task. It requires a covenant with the leader of the Darkwraiths, a dark beast known as Manus. He has been sending me these nightmares as a warning; my control over abysswalking is fading. Soon I will be corrupted by the darkness and swallowed by the shadows. It will be the end of me, forever. I am a doomed man Kurrikai, and you and Sif are doomed for coming with me."

"So uh… How do me and Sif get to walk here if only you made the convenant with the darkness?"

"The covenant extends to those who I would trust with my life. But that matters little. Why would you come here? You must of known this plan was incredibly stupid and dangerous."

Kurrikai was silent for a while, and Artorias was grateful when the warrior spoke up.

"I knew. I knew it was probably suicidal to come here, but I came anyways, and I sure as hell didn't come because I was ordered to. I came because I knew you and Tellegan were good people at heart, and you needed my help. That's why I will fight by your side to the bitter end, my conflicted companion."

"I should have helped Tellegan though. He's dead because of me, and if I fail we will all perish. No amount of fall-canceling water pools or greatshields will save me, we are all doomed and it is my fault."

"Artorias?"

"Yes?"

"Damn that talk straight to hell, and you should be ashamed for letting yourself fall into depression."

Artorias nearly lost his footing from the shock.

"You are a good man Artorias, and bad things happen to good people. It's not your fault, or any of our faults, it seems to me like this Manus character is what's causing the trouble here. You make sure to punch Manus in the jaw for me, alright? Beat up that dark monster, kill everything here, save the princess Dusk, ride back to the Great Castle triumphantly and tell Ciaran you love her."

Artorias blushed furiously, and was glad for his helmet once again.

Kurrikai took his silence as confirmation.

"You just gotta tell her Artorias. If you don't, you'll never be happy."

Artorias sighed. "It's not that simple, I just don't know if… WHAT THE HELL!?"

Artorias, Kurrikai and Sif stepped out of the tunnel and stood still in disbelief.

They were within a great cavern, perhaps a mile wide. The shock came not from the cave's monotone features, but from the creatures that inhabited it.

Strange monsters drifted throughout the Abyss. The beings appeared to be giant shards of humanity with odd, piercing white eyes.

"Aerath would be jealous." Kurrikai said weakly. Even Sif could hear the hollowness in his voice.

One of the humanity phantoms heard Kurrikais' remark and seemed to notice the trio for the first time.

"KEEEEEEE?" The phantom whined in an odd, echoing voice.

"Move. MOVE!" Artorias shouted, and the three began sprinting throughout the cavern. Out of the corner of his eye, Artorias noticed another fissure in the ground, one very similar to the fissure that had led them into the Abyss in the first place.

"There's a way out! Artorias proclaimed, and began running to the fissure with Sif and Kurrikai in pursuit.

A humanity phantom drifted far too close to Artorias, so the knight drew his greatsword and cut the thing in half. The phantom looked down at the cut in its chest as its top half and bottom half reattached.

"KEE?" The phantom inquired, as if wondering why Artorias would do a silly thing like that.

More humanity phantoms were beginning to surround the trio. Sif was trying to keep them at bay with his glowing sword while Kurrikai began chucking rocks.

Artorias noticed the situation growing evermore dire, the haunting "KEEES" of the phantoms rose in pitch as the damned things grew ever closer.

Artorias was close to desperation when he remembered his training:

_When surrounded by enemies, make use of your surroundings._

This wouldn't help them much, there was virtually no high ground in sight and the phantoms had them surrounded.

_Make use of your inventory._

What did he have that could turn the tide? Conventional weapons seemingly had little to no effect, Artorias didn't know any magic and…

Conventional weapons? What about unconventional weapons?

In a flash, Artorias remembered his secret weapon: The Silver Pendant, a holy item from the treasure troves of Anor Londo that could drive back the dark!

Artorias reached into his pack and held the silver pendant in his right hand, lifting it high above his head.

"GO BACK!" He commanded, and shook the pendant.

A circle of light surrounded the pendant, then grew exponentially, knocking pack all the humanity phantoms. Several of the phantoms began to vanish while squealing in a disturbingly child-like voice.

The remaining phantoms drifted away, some of them giving off odd sobbing sounds.

"We did it." Kurrikai said in disbelief. "We actually did it!"

"It's not over yet." Artorias informed him. "Look."

Kurrikai twisted around to follow Artorias' gaze and sighed exasperatedly. "No… Not now…"

Walking out of the shadow were three darkwraiths. They all wore the basic darkwraith armor, yet all carried different weapons.

The first darkwraith held a heavy axe in each hand, and had a rapier sheathed at his side.

The second darkwraith wielded a black longsword, and had several dozen throwing knives at his belt.

The third darkwraith carried a darksword in one hand, and a falchion in the other.

"We can still make it to the fissure." Kurrikai whispered in an aside to Artorias.

It was at that moment that the first darkwraith sprinted forward and leapt with incredible speed, landing behind Artorias, Kurrikai and Sif.

"Scratch that." Kurrikai said sadly. "We have to fight and kill them all first. Mind if I have a back-up weapon or something? Mine are probably being fought over by some bloatheads right about now."

Artorias laughed, and advanced on the first darkwraith who stood behind them.

Sif made an effective barrier between the other two darkwraiths and Kurrikai.

The first darkwraith swung his axe, which Artorias casually knocked off course with his bare hand. Artorias impaled the first darkwraith, and handed Kurrikai the rapier.

"Thank you." Kurrikai said graciously.

The third darkwraith took a step forward and pointed at Artorias.

"Your pathetic Gods cannot save you here, that damned Gywn has no authority in this place. This is where. YOU. WILL. DIE!." The darkwraith screeched.

"I'm afraid not boys. It would seem that our esteemed friend Artorias has bigger problems. You'll have to best me first." Kurrikai said while brandishing his rapier.

"Sif and I can assist you! Together we can defeat these foes!" Artorias protested.

Kurrikai laughed. "Maybe! Chances are we'll just get mobbed by darkwraith reinforcements. You need to get to Manus and Dusk as soon as possible. Go on! Get out of here!"

Artorias felt conflicted, he couldn't just leave his friend here alone! But on the same token, every moment he wasted Dusk was in mortal danger...

"Good luck, friend." Artorias said solemnly, and dove into the fissure with Sif following.

Kurrikai looked at the two darkwraiths with hate in his eyes. These two bastards stood for everything he stood against: They were evil, self-serving, uncaring and unnecessarily violent.

Kurrikai issued a silent command, and his armor transformed. The armor turned a darkish brown hue , and grew several long thorns from its' surface. Kurrikai swished his rapier through the air, and pointed it at the darkwraith who held the darksword and falchion.

"I may die here today." Kurrikai said as confidently as he could, "But I will impale you and cut out your tongue so that you may never discredit the Gods again!"

The darkwraith screamed and charged him, blades glinting in the odd twilight cave.

Kurrikai planted his feet in the ground, extended his rapier, and held still.


	4. Artorias Part III

AN: Last part! Kinda short! Thanks for the reviews! That's all!

**III.**

Artorias fell for perhaps two minutes when he saw the floor rising up towards him. Artorias mentally laughed at his dismal situation. There was no magic water to save him now, no silly trick that could preserve his life, Artorias was going to hit the ground and he was going to die.

Artorias' descent began to slow, and then he came to a complete stop a foot off the ground.

Oh.

Artorias fell a foot, and landed deftly. Sif gently touched down a few seconds later.

Artorias observed his surroundings intently. This was yet another cave, basically featureless and surrounded by stone on all sides, save the north edge which formed a cliff that had a drop off of… Artorias couldn't even tell how far the drop would be, but some primal instinct screamed to stay away: To drop off this cliff would probably end in death, with no spell designed to protect the person who fell.

Artorias also noticed one more feature in this great cave to the direct south of the cliff: A massive gateway with an entrance filled with an odd white light.

Artorias heard a voice in his head, as if this were one of his nightmares:

**_COME TO ME ARTORIAS. I WILL MAKE YOU GREAT. I WILL MAKE YOU INVINCIBLE._**

Artorias struggled to avoid the allure of the voice, and began walking towards the gate slowly. Manus was no doubt waiting for him, and it would be rude to keep Manus' head and Artorias' greatsword unacquainted for much longer.

**_WHY DO YOU RESIST? WE ARE KINDRED SPIRIT YOU AND I, WE BOTH SEEK THE SAME POWER._**

Artorias ignored the terrible voice and shuffled ever closer to the gate.

**_IF YOU WILL NOT TAKE MY GIFT WILLINGLY THAN I WILL FORCE YOU INTO TAKING IT._**

It was at this point that a great host of humanity phantoms began drifting into the cavern from the cliff side, their terrible wailing "KEEEES" hammered into Artorias' mind.

Artorias continued his slow walk, when he heard Sif cry out in pain. Manus took this opportunity to torture Artorias some more.

**_I WILL KILL YOUR LAST COMPANION. YOU WILL BE TOTALLY ALONE._**

Artorias twisted his head to see Sif surrounded by humanity phantoms. The monsters were sucking the life out of his friend!

Artorias retreated towards his friend, and lifted the Silver Pendant to ward of the phantoms. "GO BACK" He commanded, and shook the Pendant.

Nothing happened.

**_YOUR MENTAL STATE IS LINKED TO THE PENDANT. AS YOUR WILL TO LIVE FADES, SO DOES THE POWER OF THAT DAMNABLE ARTIFACT. YOU ARE FINISHED._**

Artorias stripped of his helmet, and tossed the pendant aside. Artorias lifted his greatshield, and began chanting an ancient phrase.

**_WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO ACCOMPLISH? IT IS MEANINGLESS TO SAVE HIS LIFE, FOR THE WOLF IS MORTAL. IF YOU SAVE HIS PATHETIC LIFE TODAY YOU ARE MERELY SETTING BACK THE CLOCK, HIS DEATH WILL COME ONE DAY. YOU CANNOT SAVE HIM FOREVER._**

"SHUT UP!" Artorias screamed as his greatshield began to shatter. The shards of his shield turned to light, and this light surrounded the mortally wounded Sif in a bubble of protection. The humanity phantoms squealed when they saw the light, and stayed back, but didn't flee.

**_SO YOU HAVE SAVED ONE LIFE. PATHETIC! A TRUE HERO WOULD HAVE SAVED EVERYONE, YET IT WAS DUE TO YOUR INCOMPETENCE THAT TELLEGAN AND KIRRUKAI DIED. YOU ARE A HORRIBLE PERSON ARTORIAS, AND A WEAK ONE AT THAT. DO YOU THINK THAT SAVING THE LIFE OF A PRINCESS AND A WOLF CAN REDEEM YOURSELF FOR THE ATROCITIES YOU'VE COMMITTED? _**

**_YOU CLAIM TO BE A SERVANT OF LIGHT, YET YOU HAVE A HEART OF DARKNESS._**

Artorias looked at his wounded companion sadly, then turned towards the gateway and began walking again. The humanity phantoms did not pursue him.

**_WHAT NOW, "HERO?" DO YOU INTEND TO FACE ME, THE FATHER OF THE ABYSS, WITHOUT A SHIELD!? YOU ARE AS FOOLISH AS YOU ARE IMPUDENT._**

Artorias simply reached into his pack, and pulled out the hand mirror. Dropping the pack on the ground, Artorias walked forward stoically, eyes transfixed on the mirror in his left hand while he held the greatsword in his right.

**_A MIRROR? YOU INTEND TO BEST ME WITH A MIRROR!? YOU FOOL! YOU IDIOT! I AM MANUS! THE GREATEST OF ALL THE DARK BEINGS! YOU COULDN'T KILL ME WITH AN ARMY OF HEROES, YET YOU COME TO ME ALONE AND POORLY ARMED! WHAT IMPUDENCE! WHAT ARROGANCE! WHAT DAMNABLE FALSE HEROICS!_**

Artorias flinched at every telepathic word; each insult was like a whiplash inside his mind. Manus' screaming did little more than make Artorias walk faster. Artorias reached the gateway and entered the white light, his lightly colored eyes burning brighter than a pyromancy glove.

Artorias entered Manus' lair, and waited.

The beast Manus appeared before Artorias, and looked down at the pseudo-human.

**_YOU ARE SMALLER THAN I REMEMBERED._**

"And you are uglier than I recalled. I suppose we're both full of surprises." Artorias said.

The beast Manus was indeed disturbing, he was like a giant child with huge hands and feet, a face full of glowing red eyes and a massive staff gripped tightly in his freakishly disproportionate right hand.

**_THE COVENANT YOU MADE WITH ME TEN YEARS AGO IS ABOUT TO END. WHEN IT DOES, YOUR MIND WILL BE MINE, LIKE WE AGREED._**

Artorias bared his teeth and charged Manus, swinging his greatsword with one hand in an impressive display of strength.

Manus simply walked backwards and the blade missed his head by inches.

Artorias continued his assault and began a deadly barrage of slashes and stabs. Most missed Manus, who was surprisingly agile for his size.

Artorias finally grew tired, and his sword hung low to the ground.

Manus had perhaps eight sword wounds across his body, all of them relatively minor.

**_YOU FOOLISH WARRIOR. YOU HAVE BUT MINUTES BEFORE MY CONTROL OF YOU IS UNBREAKABLE. I WOULD HATE TO DESTROY YOU BEFORE I GET TO PLAY AROUND WITH YOUR MIND, SO I COMMAND YOU TO HALT THIS FOOLISH SCUFFLE AND FACE YOUR CONSEQUENCES LIKE A KNIGHT. _**

Artorias looked up, and grinned.

"I intend to."

Artorias than reached within himself to find some hidden reserve of stamina, and ran towards Manus at full speed, mirror glinting in the twilight.

Manus must not have expected this sudden attack, for he was slow to dodge. Far too slow.

Artorias planted his greatsword deep within Manus' chest, causing the beast to cough up an odd blackish goop that could have perhaps been blood.

Manus grabbed Artorias with his left hand and threw the knight.

Artorias struck the ground and dropped the mirror.

Manus came closer, and crushed the mirror underfoot. Artorias saw his own luminescent eye staring back at him from one of the glass shards. Manus then plucked the sword out of his chest and tossed it away.

**_ONE MINUTE LEFT ARTORIAS! YOU ARE UNARMED AND UNABLE TO FIGHT, SURRENDER NOW AND FACE THE END OF YOUR FREE WILL._**

Artorias looked up at the damned beast that had haunted his nightmares for years now, and slowly rose from the ground.

His vision was getting worse, and his control of his own body was evaporating. He could hear the voices in his mind reach a crescendo. His now-warped instincts screamed to do a million things at once, his eyes began rolling around in his skull, his eardrums had stopped working, his blood was being converted to darkness, his teeth were falling out, his hair was burning, his pupils had disappeared altogether, his heart was beating slower and slower, but even in this physical and mental hell Artorias remembered Kurrikais' words and drew back his arm with what remaining free will he had.

The last things Artorias felt before his sanity faded away was the sadness that he would never tell Ciaran his feelings for her, and the sweet impact of his fist in Manus' jaw.

**-0-0-0-0-0**

AN: Thank you for reading the entire Artorias story. Allow me to clear up a few things for you (consider this a sort of epilogue)

Kurrikai was murdered by the Darkwraith Phantom. However, in a stunning display of bravery, the mortally wounded hero managed to stab Phantom repeatedly in the throat and lungs, rendering the dark assassin mute for all time.

The second darkwraith retrieved Kurrikais armor and wore it ever after. You might know this darkwraith by his true name: "Kirk."

Gough and Ciaran captured the insane Artorias and placed him in an Oolacile arena, waiting for someone worthy to come along and kill the knight while still preserving Artorias' armor.

The silver pendant was picked up by a curious darkwraith and left in Oolacile after his demise.

The Chosen Undead would later travel to the past, slay Manus, save Dusk (who was imprisoned within Manus' darkness), slay Artorias (and preserve his honor) and later murder Gough and Ciaran for their "ubersikmlgarmor."

OIO)List of Characters I made up(OIO

The Infested Count

The Pardoner Verrick

Silvach the Glutton

Shining Knight Tellegan

The Defender Kurrikai

The Invisible Man

White Eyes Aerath

Phantom

Various darkwraiths (not including kirk, of course)

Thanks again for reading and reviewing and whatnot. By the by, all this talk of "magic pendants" and stuff has got me thinking. Wouldn't it be great if I told a more comical story about a group of noobs trying to discover the pendants meaning?

I might have to put that Lord Gywns Daughters story on a hiatus…


	5. Ornstein and Smough

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be the Last? I'm not proposing some dramatic scenario in which you are, say, the Last human on Earth, or perhaps the Last sentient creature breathing. I'm talking about something on a much smaller scale. Have you ever wondered what it would be like to be the Last member of a group or organization?

What could that possibly be like? The feelings of guilt at being the Last member alive, the feelings of nostalgia at the way things used to be. The feeling of longing for the presence of your companions, the feelings of want for a greater purpose, and the smoldering hatred at the World itself for not supplying said purpose.

All these feelings and more circulate the mind of Knight Ornstein, Last of the Four Knights.

**Ornstein and Smough**

Knight Ornstein, the Last of the once great Four Knights, leaned against a pillar that supported the cathedral of Anor Londo, and sighed. It was just another boring day of guard duty, and Ornstein's mind was beginning to crack.

There is no greater torture in this world then repetition: The endless cycle of uninteresting tasks and minimal social contact was driving red-hot nails deep into his mind.

Ornstein didn't even bother to carve another mark into the pillar to remind himself how long he had been stationed in this damnable cathedral. A glance at the pillar would show a great multitude of small marks, notches and scrapes in the pillar. If you looked closely at the other pillars, you could see that they had so many scratch marks it was impossible to see where one began and another ended.

How many days had it been? A hundred? A thousand? Seven thousand? Ten? A hundred? A thousand?

Ornstein shook his head vigorously. The motion caused his armor to scrape against itself. The disturbing noise echoed throughout the cathedral.

That led Ornstein to remember the second thing he hated about this strange guarding assignment: He had to wear his armor for nearly the entire day.

If he was honest with himself, it really wasn't all that bad. The armor had been hand-made by Ornstein himself to take on the persona of his animal symbol: The Lion. Despite its ferocious appearance, the armor was quite comfortable. Ornstein also realized that wearing the armor for so long had caused him to "fuse" with it. He had worn the armor for so long it was essentially a second skin to him now.

The boredom and constant guarding was so great Ornstein was tempted to just… Leave. No matter how many times he thought it, no matter how _damned easy _it would be Ornstein could never bear to abandon his post. He had sworn his oath as a Knight directly to Lord Gywn to protect Princess Gywnevere until Gywn returned.

If that wasn't enough, Ornstein would feel doubly ashamed at his lack of willpower to leave his post while that _monster_ of a man, Smough, stayed to guard Gywnevere with honor intact. Speaking of Smough…

Ornstein looked over to his massive ally.

Smough was taller than Ornstein, and far more massive. Smough's hatred for the Four Knights was legendary, ever since he was denied membership by Lord Gywn for his cannibalistic tendencies. Despite this, Smough was a deadly warrior, and earned the title "Executioner" not for actually executing criminals, (As everyone believed) but for the way he brutally massacred his enemies. At the battle of White-Dragon Reach, Smough had grabbed the enemy leader, smashed his legs, and eaten him in front of his own soldiers.

Needless to say, the enemies' forces were so terrified they ran straight into a trap laid by the Four Knights.

The Four Knights! Now there was a wonderfully deadly team!

Artorias the Abysswalker: A heavily armored man with enough honor and determination for an army of humans. Ornstein had always thought of Artorias as an equal, which was very rare for a knight of Ornstein's merit to admit.

Hawkeye Gough may not have engaged his enemies directly like a real knight would, but his archery was immaculate and his battle strategies were more legendary than his reputation as the "Smart Giant."

Then there was Ciaran. Ornstein wasn't always sure how to think of her. She was the leader of the Lord's Blades, and a deadly combatant, and yet Ornstein rarely thought of her as an actual, honor-bound knight. Sure she fought people up close, but it was often in the dark, or from behind. While Gough fought in a similar way, he had his own personal Archers Creed: He would always shoot at his opponents from the front and never tried to conceal himself in combat.

Ciaran deserved his respect as a Lord's Blade, of course, and her fighting style couldn't really be criticized since the secretive and unhonorable fighting standards were taught by the Lord's Blades, but still…

Ornstein realized he was close to falling asleep in his ruminations, and quickly stood upright. To Hell with all this standing around, he was going to do something!

Ornstein spent the next two hours practicing basic muscle-building training and complex spear-fighting maneuvers. He had just nearly perfected his "Impale and Shock technique" (Ornstein was fond of naming his fighting techniques he designed) when a low, scratchy voice echoed to him from across the room.

"Why are you fighting the air?" The terrible voice asked.

Ornstein stopped, and looked over to the source of the voice. Smough was now sitting, and was gently striking the ground with his massive hammer. Hundreds of small dents and cracks in the ground littered the area where he would sit each day and think about… On second thought, Ornstein would rather not know what Smough was thinking half the time.

Ornstein stretched his arms and replied as casually as he could. "I'm not fighting the air, I'm practicing."

Smough stopped hitting the floor and looked up. His freakish helmet, which had been designed to look like a human face, seemed to judge Ornstein more than any normal human face ever could.

"What are you… You… "Prac-ess-eng" for?" He asked, struggling with this new word.

Ornstein's blonde eyebrows rose straight up from behind his helmet. Smough would rarely ever speak to anyone but himself, and asking two questions in a row was a new record. The giant monster could barely understand human speech, let alone form his own sentences.

"For when someone comes to harm Gywnevere, like Lord Gywn said. We will be here to protect her when the enemy arrives."

Smough was silent for a full ten minutes, then spoke, articulating each world as carefully as he could.

"Who is Lard Gwun?" He asked, sounding as if he were about to cry.

Ornstein was shell-shocked. Had Smough really stayed here with him through all these years, and really not have known who had ordered him to!?

Ornstein took a moment to answer.

"Lord Gywn is God. He asked us to guard his daughter until he arrived from his venture to the Kiln of the First Flame. Don't you remember?"

Smough seemed to consider this, and spoke.

"Yeh I remembuuur. 'E said I could be a knighty-knight if I stay here. I like Lard Gwun."

Ornstein was once again shocked. "He said if you guarded Gywnevere you could become a member of the Four Knights? That's why you've been here this whole time? But don't you get it you big oaf!? There already is four knights! You can't be one of them!"

Smough began making estranged noises that echoed within his armor. Whether it was crying or laughter was anyones guess. Smough rolled around on the ground, causing great damage to the area. After an hour, Smough calmed down and began bashing his oversized hands on the ground.

"Fud! Fud! Fud! Now!" Smough cried out. Ornstein assumed "Fud" meant "Food."

Ornstein too felt his stomach rumble and complain. It had been a few years since they last ate, and the two silver knights that would bring them their meals hadn't even come to inform them of the cathedrals conditions in… Weeks?

Ornstein didn't mind too terribly much, his race could last a century without eating, but the prospect of having Smough as his only companion for any longer began to ebb away at his sanity. Sure, the two silver knights weren't too great for conversation, but at least they had something new or interesting to say. Ornstein assumed that the world outside the cathedral was beautiful.

After so long, Lord Gywn must have fixed the issue he refused to tell anyone about, and Lordran was no doubt enjoying a golden age of peace and prosperity.

SO WHERE THE HELL WAS LORD GYWN!?

It had been so long… So long… Since he saw his God. It had been so long since he saw his companions, Gough… Ciaran… Artorias. He wondered how they were holding up. He wondered if Artorias ever manned up and told Ciaran his blatantly obvious feelings for her. _They would look so adorable together. _Ornstein thought to himself.

Ornstein decided it was worth a trip up to Gywnevere's chamber, if not to kill time than anything else. Ornstein took the smaller elevator that had been designed specifically for him, and opened the doors to Gywnevere's chamber.

Gywnevere still lay upon her bed in that exact position with that vacant look on her face. This was what troubled Ornstein the most.

A couple years into his life guarding the cathedral, Gywnevere disappeared for an hour, and then returned to her chamber. Ever since that incident, she was totally unresponsive to Ornstein's presence. No matter what he asked her, no matter what he said, or begged, or_ screamed_, she just lay there. With that damned look on her face.

What if she had been cursed? What if she was dying? What if she was DEAD?

What would Lord Gywn say? WHAT WOULD HE DO!?

Ornstein couldn't imagine life without honor, or his rank as the sub-captain of the Four Knights. And if he were to be removed from the Four Knights, after all this time spent guarding his Gods daughter well… He was sure he would go mad, and kill many people.

His fear of this outcome was so great that on the rare occasions when the two silver knights came to bring food, he would ask them questions non-stop. But all they would say was how nice it looked outside, or how well the cathedral's forces were doing. They'd comment on just about everything, except Gywnevere's condition.

And the silver knights were acting stranger too. Long before, they would hold interesting conversations. They would encourage Ornstein and Smough on how well they were doing and how proud Lord Gywn would be… But ever since Gywnevere left and reappeared, the knights would only offer stock phrases and comments, such as:

"It's really sunny outside."

"Here is your food."

"Keep Gywnevere safe, the enemy could appear at any moment!"

"Keep training Ornstein!"  
"Remember the deal you made, Smough!"

And so on. They had about thirty different things they would say, and they would always say them in different orders, but Ornstein was no idiot. He knew something was wrong with the knights, and with Gywnevere, Hell, something was wrong with the Royal Sentinel he would occasionally glimpse outside the cathedral's inner chamber. No living thing could stand still like that for a week straight!

Something was terribly wrong with everything in this mad cathedral. Whether it was Gywnevere, who wouldn't look at him as Ornstein waved his spear about erratically and called her name several times, or the silver knights, who still had yet to show up, Ornstein didn't like the way things were panning out. Ornstein stopped calling Gywnevere's name, and chuckled to himself. Things had been slowly changing for the past couple of years, and he had been too ignorant to notice it until recently.

Perhaps he deserved this fate, to eternally guard a mindless princess and wait for a God that would never return. Perhaps he had done something wrong, or offended somebody.

Ornstein took off his helmet and began to cry in that room with Gywnevere. He didn't cry because of Gywnevere's unresponsiveness, or because the silver knights hadn't showed up, or because he was hungry, or because he had a cramp in his leg, or because he was bored, or because Lord Gywn hadn't returned… No, Ornstein cried because it had taken him all these centuries to realize how weak he was.

Only when left to wander in this relatively small part of the cathedral for so long had an incredibly strong and moralistic man like Ornstein cracked.

He was crying! The great Dragonslayer Ornstein, who had brutally killed twenty-seven dragons and single-handedly stopped armies of mortals on his own, was _crying_.

In that moment Ornstein understood it all. He finally understood that any warrior, no matter how powerful, cannot be strong forever. Eventually you would slip up, eventually your own mind, or perhaps the enemy, would get the best of you, and it didn't matter how you-

Smough's great wailing cries alerted Ornstein to the intruder.

Ornstein wiped away his three tears, put on his helmet, quickly exited Gywnevere's chamber, closed the great doors, and looked down from the balcony.

A figure entered the room, holding a claymore in his right hand and a Berenike greatshield in his left.

Ornstein couldn't believe his eyes! It was Artorias, back to tell him that his centuries of misery were over! Back to tell him that Lord Gywn was so pleased with his performance that he had named Ornstein the Royal Champion! Back to say that- Wait. What?

The figure couldn't possibly be Artorias, for one thing he was much too small, and held a claymore and a Berenike greashield. Artorias's armaments looked much different than what the man was holding.

And when he listened very closely, he heard that the man's heavy breathing wasn't a man's at all! Some strange woman **HAD KILLED ARTORIAS AND WAS WEARING HIS GODDAMN ARMOR LIKE A TROPHY!**

Ornstein was then filled with a terrible rage. All this waiting and training, all his preparations had been to fight someone who was dressed up like a companion he hadn't seen in a lifetime.

Ornstein grabbed the balcony edge and vaulted over it, landing with terrible force.

Ornstein stood next to Smough, his strange ally who, although hating the Four Knights for not being admitted into their group, was willing to fight by his side.

Even in his rage Ornstein was happy to know he was going to fight with an ally by his side that would die for him. Smough gave off a high-pitched laugh, and the two golden warriors charged the intruder head-on.

The battle was short and vicious. Ornstein stood, his body covered in great cuts from the small warrior's claymore.

His vision blurred, and he fell to his knee, and then fell over completely.

As he lay on the ground in agony, Smough walked over.

Ornstein tried to speak, tried to ask Smough to help him up, but Smough merely laughed with glee, and pulled his hammer up, high into the air.

_So it was all for nothing. All this waiting and misery… And my only ally is going to kill me. Damn it all! Well, at least I'll be able to see Artorias soon. I bet he'll have some interesting stories to tell._ Ornstein thought to himself.

The last thing he saw was a great flash of light, and then the Four Knights were no more.

**-0-0-0-0-0-0-**

Next time you're bored and complain about your situation, think of Ornstein and find something to do.

What will the next story be? In all honesty I don't know, and it may take me a month or so to come up with something good. Either way, thanks for the reviews!

-TSM


	6. DSQA (Its not sexual, I swear)

Hello, this is TheSunMan. As you might have noticed, this is not a story, it's something else entirely that I've never seen done before on this site, so I thought it would be pretty cool. What is it you're wondering? (Seriously, did you not read the title?)

**INTRODUCING, THE DARK SOULS CHARACTER QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS PAGE!1!**

**(DSQA)**

Basically, you guys ask any character, whether it's one I made up in the stories, or one that previously existed in the DS universe, a question, and they answer.

To ask a question, simply post a review with your question in it, and the character's name. I don't mind if the entire review is just the question or if you tack it on at the end of the review. I'll post your username, the character, the question, and the answer. You may ask more than one question, but try not to ask questions to more than two characters in a row.

I'll continue to re-edit this chapter so that (nearly) all the questions are displayed. You may ask any question you like, from the uber-serious to ridiculous, however, try to keep it at around a Pg-13 rating. Thanks. You horny readers.

-TSM

**Q&A:**

**1. Q: Asker: Antoine: **Knight Solaire, what is the most important thing to a knight, and why? What advice would you give to an aspiring young man who does not yet know to what he ought to pledge his loyalty? Thank you.

**A: Solaire:** Ahhh a worthy question indeed! It truly is good to see the youth interested in such great things! On to your query! The most important thing to a knight is his sense of honor! Honor is what separates knights from warriors, for you see, warriors are men who kill others, but knights are men who know when to spare a life. Our code of honor obliges us to help those who cannot help themselves, to fight fairly and justly, and to always serve our chosen Lord.

The second part of your question is perhaps what perplexes me the most. Were you in my land, I would readily suggest you find a good man or woman to be your master, and serve them with all your heart. However, from what The Man of the Sun tells me, things are rather different in your land. Pledging your loyalty does not have to be the great romanticized thing we knights believe in, perhaps in your land smaller amounts of loyalty would be best. Assisting people when they need it, or just generally being there for others is the highest standard you could achieve, in my eyes at least.

If your people do not worship the sun, then find something else dear to you and love it with all your heart!

I wish you much good fortune in your life! Praise the Sun!

-Knight Solaire

**2. Q: Asker: xanna2011: **Lord Gywn. What does it feel like to become a walking nightlight. Couldn't there be a better way?

**A: Gywn, Lord of Cinder: **I can't even imagine the appearance of the foolish mortal asking this question. I assume he is of short stature, with pure audacity and ignorance coursing through his veins in place of his yellow blood. If you are wondering why I became a "Night Light" then allow me to grace you with my infinite wisdom and put it out plainly: I told very few of the First Flame's problems to reduce the panic to only my closest allies. I literally took the burden of the flame upon myself, alone. This feat alone took strength of a level you cannot even comprehend.

I may have lost nearly everything to this damnable fire, but the question should not be "Was there a better way," No, no, the question does not need to be asked at all. Can you not hear the crackling of my charred bones even now? My sacrifice was of a heroic sort, and wondering about what I would do were things different is absolutely irrelevant.

However, if you feel as though your God must truly enlighten you, then I will proceed to speculate on a better course of action that I might of taken. I suppose we could of just "Kindled that bitch," but eventually we would run out of stuff to burn. Ridiculous, no?

-Gywn, Lord of Cinder

**3. Q: Asker: EarthScraper:**Dear Artorias, in this timeline, you never get to tell Ciaran your feelings for her. But in the other timeline, you totally get in on, as in, PHYSICALLY. You jelly about your other self? (**And yes Earthscraper, you may ask just about anything**)

**A: Knight Artorias:** After perusing a dictionary of your peasant-speech, I have finally understood the basis of your question. You are basically stating that in another reality, I have grown much closer to Ciaran. It doesn't truly matter, our relationship was just fine the way it went, and despite the awkwardness, I did truly enjoy my time with her and the other Knights.

If you wish for a straight answer, If I'm "Jealous" of my other self, then maybe.

Maybe just a little bit.

-Knight Artorias

**4. Q: Asker: ParagonEmil: **Dragonslayer Ornstein, were you truly the captain of the knights? My belief is so, as your tactics seem well and good. A second question, who were the strongest between you and Artorias in terms of combat skill?

**A: Dragonslayer Ornstein: **I was well aware that someone would wish to understand the knight's ranking system sooner or later, and I will illuminate the situation for you. Hawkeye Gough and Knight Artorias are but members of the Four Knights, although their opinions and suggestions are valued greatly, they are not "In charge." I myself am the sub-captain of the knights, I have some control over the say of our actions. Or at least I did, before I was forced to guard in this cathedral.

So that leaves, yes you guessed it, Lord's Blade Ciaran as the true captain of the four knights. It was truly a stroke of genius by Lord Gywn! In making the smallest and least imposing of the Four Knights the leader, assassination attempts were always directed towards me or Artorias, which we would easily repel. Word got out that I was supposedly captain of the Four Knights due to me looking the part, and occasionally giving out orders as sub-captain. No one ever suspected that the least-likely candidate for captain was indeed Ciaran.

As for a match of strength between me and Artorias, we are usually evenly matched. He is slower than me, but has stronger armor and uses his greatsword as accurately as I use my spear. He thinks quick on his feet, and often uses his environment as a tool for his enemies defeat.

I on the other hand move twice as fast as he, can break solid stone with a casual thrust of my spear, can conjure lightning from said spear, and have slain twice as many dragons as him.

In a fight to the death, I suppose it would really be anyone's call.

-Dragonslayer Ornstein, Resident Badass

**5.**


	7. Marvelous, Simply Mavelous!

**Marvelous, Simply Marvelous!**

Once upon a time, in a city with towers taller than those of the fabled lost city of Anor Londo, lived a father, and his son.

The father's name was Wallis, and the son's name was Chester.

Wallis and Chester were the best of friends; in fact, they had the very definition of a "good relationship."

Wallis would often beat Chester, and Chester would often try to kill Wallis! This hilarious game of suffering was held on every Saturday, and the Sunday after they'd laugh about how close Chester had been to death, or how Wallis was going to try to hide the scars on his neck when he went to work.

His father wore his Sunday best everywhere, and had retrieved a particularly wonderful mask from an antique shop. The mask was grinning with its sharp metal teeth, and the beautiful blonde hair attached to the back merely enhanced its value in his father's mind. His father simply refused to take the mask off once he bought it, it was a wonder he didn't die of starvation!

Every weekday, Chester would wait for his father to return, and they'd practice weaponry together. Chester had found that his favorite weapons were the old ones, mostly because they were so ugly and violent compared to modern weaponry that his victims wouldn't know how to respond.

His favorite of the old weapons was called a "Crossbow." This "Crossbow" had been retrieved from the hands of a long dead skeleton that the young Chester had found in the old barrows. Scattered across the floor was a great multitude of "Crossbow" bolts, which Chester had studied and began producing when he found the time.

When he started practicing, Chester was perhaps thirteen years old, and he beamed with glee when Wallis witnessed him shooting an elderly woman through the heart with his "Crossbow."

He distinctly remembered his father's squealing laughter and the feeling of pride when Wallis managed to choke out: "Marvelous, Chester, simply marvelous!"

Perhaps three years later, Chester became a deadly sniper with his "Crossbow." He would shoot starving dogs, bandits, and practically anything that moved with his old weapon, and each time his father would shout out: "Marvelous, Chester, simply marvelous!"

He had grown so dependent on his father's encouragement, that one day the two sat outside, waiting for something to appear so that Chester could shoot it, and Chester began to worry.

What if nothing alive came near? What if there were no targets? What would his father think of him then?

So Chester did what Chester did best: When his father stood and turned away to stretch, Chester shot him in the back.

Chester dropped his old weapon, and ran to his father's side. Wallis turned over onto his back and coughed wetly. "Marvelous….. Chester…." He said with an odd lack of energy.

Chester watched his father die and laughed. Chester had won the game!

Chester then took his father's Sunday best, made some modifications, and took that beautiful mask for himself. Upon finding his father's fancy top hat and putting it on top of his wonderful mask, Chester felt truly prepared to set out and live his life.

"Marvelous." Chester whispered to himself. "That's me! I'm simply wonderful, simply magical! I'm MARVELOUS CHES-TER!"


End file.
